


Trial of Voyd

by Kokoai



Series: Sormik Week 2018 [2]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, EPILEO, M/M, Post Game, breif appearance of armatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokoai/pseuds/Kokoai
Summary: Dreams existed as both reflections of the subconscious, but also messages from between planes.“Enjoy the snow a little longer. For me?”Some dreams hurt less than reality.





	Trial of Voyd

**Author's Note:**

> 2 days of sormik week down (even if day 2 here is coming on day 3 but whatever).
> 
> I really wasn't sure if I'd write anything for this day, but then I got unexpected inspiration from a song. I would have liked to expand this more and do more with this concept; perhaps later but irl life makes it a struggle just to get this out as is.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy regardless of my lazy writing and surely many missed mistakes.

Nights in what was left of the ancient city of Meirchio were cold and desolate at best. If snow wasn’t falling then winds were blowing the blanket on the ground around. Hardly any humans dared to traverse this terrain, and only the most devote seraphim ventured here. 

Five decades had passed since Mikleo first set foot here. He had planned to spend at least a century here documenting as much as he could. Although the ruins here were some of the most treacherous he’d ever encountered. 

Today had been an exhausting one full of avoiding a myriad of traps, hellions, and weak infrastructures he’d returned to his makeshift bed inside a building he believed to have once been an inn. Every muscle ached from the complexity of the artes he’d used to disarm most of the traps. 

Old wood screeched at the force of his now naked body hitting the mattress. Well, he called it a mattress but in reality it was more like an oversized pillow sitting on the floor. 

Sleep still existed as a luxury that he seldom divulged in; practically only during times like these where he truly felt exhausted. Tonight he would fall into one of the quickest of sleeps, as if warm arms had wrapped around him welcoming him to a dreamworld.  
  
  


A white light blinded him and suddenly he stood in Elysia. The sky wasn’t quite right though, it was dark like that day Zenrus’ blessing had vanished. 

Houses still stood...barely. 

“Sorey?” he tried to call out but his voice was missing. 

Every hair on Mikleo’s body stood. Every ounce of his mana shook as he slowly turned towards Mabinogio, towards Sorey’s light. 

Or where Sorey’s light should have been. 

_ “Sorey!” _ once again no sound left his lips. He wanted to run towards the door. To ensure the seals were still in place. But as he raised on leg, the world around him vanished. 

“Mikleo.”  Nothing but darkness surrounded him, yet that voice echoed around him.

“Enjoy the snow a little longer. For me?” the words seemed to come from every direction at once. 

“What are you—” Confusion consumed Mikleo’s mind. This wasn’t a dream, this felt too real. Unlike the other nightmares that had plagued him over the centuries. 

“Elysia is safe. I promise. Just stay here for now. Please?” 

A coldness spread over Mikleo’s cheek, sending a jolt through his whole body and causing the nothingness around him to crack and shatter.

 

This night had grown even colder now that his room was coated in ice. Sweat that covered his panicking body froze before ever having the chance to fall. 

He had to go back to Elysia, to Mabinogio  _ now _ . 

_____________

How had this happened? All those seals...all those seraphim combined...all those years of upkeep and it had done nothing. 

Mabinogio’s depths were swarming with hellions, even the Elaine Ruins were overrun. 

Clutching his staff between his hands, he’d barely blocked the claws of three wolves that had lunged at him. 

_ Sorey...I’m coming.  _  Every arte used enough mana to power a city for a month, but it still wasn’t enough. For each hellion defeated, he swore two more appeared. 

_ Sorey… _

He couldn’t keep this up. Not even a former Prime Lord had the strength to withstand this much malevolence. 

While he had been out exploring, chasing his,  _ their _ dream… he hadn’t been here to keep things under control. 

His staff rolled over limp fingers as his body crashed into the ground. He had failed. He didn’t deserve to survive this. 

Claws dug into his chest and he screamed. Oh Maotelus did it hurt; malevolence spreading through him incredibly fast. His veins pulsated in agony, all while his body writhed from the hellfire that replaced his blood. 

Everything went hazy and dark. This must be death he thought.  
  


 

Waves....he heard crashing ocean waves and screeches of ocean

birds. Would he see the ocean he’d always wanted to revisit with Sorey?

Wait, those weren’t bird, that was...a voice. A familiar voice. 

“Wake up...Please…” two voices, interwoven into one. Feeling out his body was no easy task, mostly due to the fact that he  _ couldn’t _ feel anything besides...arms holding him?

_ Sorey his mana’s too weak _

Who’s voice was that? It sounded like a child...but they knew Sorey.

“Gah” Mikleo gasped as his body lurched forward. He coughed violently into a fist as his eyes adjusted to the awfully bright light beside him. 

“Mikleo!” hands clutched his own. He twisted to see...Sorey in white and gold, with eyes that swirled both purple and white. 

Centuries of bottled up emotions came rushing out as he buried himself into Sorey’s chest. He didn’t even try to restrain the sobs. 

Warm, gentle hands held his shoulders for a moment before pushing him back. Their eyes locked and...Mikleo understood.

“I’m sorry… this...is taking too much energy.” Whether that was Sorey or Maotelus speaking, Mikleo couldn’t tell; perhaps it had been both. 

Ten thousand words danced on Mikleo’s tongue; all the things he’d never said before, all the new things he wanted to say, and yet he hadn’t been able to say a single word. 

Sorey’s form burst into millions of white orbs that hung in the air for a moment, almost drifting towards him before vanishing in blurs back towards the crater.

 

Somehow, this felt crueler than death. And worst of all, left Mikleo feeling even lonelier than centuries of actually being alone ever had. 

 

This event, this memory would haunt him for the next four hundred years. 


End file.
